Flowers
by theFanaticCat
Summary: if you have a better title for this story do tell. all original. R&R and i'll love you. another one-shot.


_A/N: Here you go. I wrote it up this afternoon when I was supposed to be doing my homework. *guilty look*_

Time rushes by so fast and people change the course of history everyday in so many small ways, sometimes without their knowledge. Tall buildings shimmer where flowers dressed in colors once swayed under a calm sun. But that is Earth and this is the Moon. Luna is a fair place to live if you like bubbles, glass bubbles, and a strict system of rules but that is only in the city of Crust, a skyscraping garbage heap, in my opinion.

I live in the laidback, sprawling, city of Damion, named for its founder, where nearly everyone gets along and wheelies, a type of motorcycle, zip by at the speed of light. Wheelie gangs are quite amusing, with their tough attitude and gentlemanly nature, to watch and I always enjoy their races but, unfortunately, the crowds got too big so they moved to a different section of the city. Pity.

Lately, all I seem to do these days is sit in my chair on the sidewalk and eke out a living, if you want to call it that, while wishing for my lovely Earth.

Blue skies instead of boring glass-like bubbles that have holograms projected on them attempting to imitate the pure blue of Earth's beautiful sky where birds fly and the sound and smell of life is not lost in the hustle and bustle of humans. Flowers stretching up to lift their faces to the sun, which gives life and strength to nearly all things, and the sound of the wind in the trees. The smell of rain.

One might wonder why I don't just return to Earth, if I miss it so much, but how can I return to the past? For that is all that for me on Earth and it would only make things more painful for me to see it again. But don't think Earth is a wasteland, like some twentieth century sci-fi books would have you believe of the future, by no means is it so. Birds still fly across blue skies dotted with clouds and the ocean is still a deep mystery. But it is no longer my home in the sense that it once was.

I content myself with watching humans; they are repetitive creatures and are always making the mistakes that their ancestors once made. Here I thought you were supposed to 'learn from others mistakes' but perhaps I am wrong. They have an undeniable courage and will to live. Their yearning for freedom will always empower the weak to overthrow the strong.

Their music is a blend of sounds and styles; I am in awe of their ingenuity in finding new rhythms and rhymes. They can vary from the rich, openhearted, woman who shares her home with children of all cultures and backgrounds, regardless of what others say, to the relatively poor, bitter, man who would beat the crap out of anyone who tries to be friendly. In their world, it doesn't matter whether you're poor, relatively, or if you own the planet; you are all equal in the eyes of God.

God. Someone once asked me if I believed in Him and I told them I didn't have a choice. When they asked me what I meant, I said,

"If evil exists doesn't good? So if the Devil exists doesn't God?" They smiled at me, as a nurse does to a lunatic who has told her that her son, who lives on the other side of the continent, has died in an accident, and thanked me for my time.

But the Devil doesn't exist, you might say. You are wrong. He does and I am his servant, sent to put fear in you hearts as you walk the night thinking yourself to be safe. I will suck the years from you and never grow older as time passes by, oh so, quickly.

I am the nightmare in your bed, I am the darkness at the bottom of the bottle, I am the murderer stalking your children and much, much more. I may look like you but I am neither you nor your friend. You puny humans have made me into many things I am not. I don't like to drink blood, I do not fry in the sun, and when I take the years of your life a kiss or a handshake will suffice. I am neither handsome nor monstrous and I can't turn into a bat, useful as that would be.

I am a fallen angel formed by the hatred of Lucifer himself and, yet, here I sit watching humans live in a city of my finding. The irony.

End~

_A/N: btw if you steal this idea I will hunt you down and kill you. I am serious. _


End file.
